BROOM TALE
by Scarlet Garter
Summary: When is a horse not a horse?  When it's a broom, of course.    Chance finally gets his date with Julie  from the bookstore  A little early for Halloween, but It's never too soon for trick or treat.  One-shot.


5

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim ownership nor rights to Human Target. I am grateful for the opportunity to play with the characters.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
>This vignette is dedicated to the real Cedricsowner, whose generous praise and insightful comments have brightened many a day. The story takes place after Season 1, Ep. 6, when Chance had to forgo his date with Julie, a woman he need not rescue, save, or protect.<p>

DEFINITIONS:  
>Broom tail a horse with a short, broom-like tail, rather than a long flowing one. The title is a pun on this term.<p>

Pillion a pad or cushion attached behind a saddle to accommodate a second rider.

BROOM TALE

Chance tried the number she'd given him. The same number he'd used to break their date. This time he only got voice mail. Got it five times in a row. No call back, even when he borrowed Guerrero's phone and used a fake name. Even when he left a message she'd won a facial and a makeup make-over at one of the ritzy boutiques off Alamo Square. (And bribed the shop owner to go along with his scheme.)

He was beginning to fear his earlier assessment-that he at long last had met a woman whose life wasn't in danger-was wrong. That she'd been kidnapped or murdered or maybe accidently hit by a car as she crossed a street.

He was about to start calling city hospitals when his cell phone buzzed.

**... … … … … … …**

"You're kidding, right?" Chance said.

She'd agreed to meet him at the same bookstore-bistro-wifi hotspot where they first met. They threaded their way past displays of true ghost stories and Halloween craft books, ducked under low-hanging cardboard bats and jack-o-lanterns. Julie held her long gray skirt aside to let three tiny goblins dash past. Kids celebrating Halloween early, Chance thought.

They found a table, ordered lattes. She'd just explained she was away from home for a few days, attending a convention in Salem and had hurried home to celebrate Samhain. "I'm only a novice witch," she'd added as an afterthought. "This will be the first time I'm allowed to compete in the Halloween derby."

"No," she said now, "I'm not kidding. I'm a witch."

She sounded annoyed, Chance thought. She was probably still pissed he had to break their first date. Women were funny about things like that. He'd sent flowers, but maybe not the right kind, or maybe she was allergic. Time to turn on the old Christopher Chance charm. He reached across the table and took her hand.

"But you're much too beautiful to be a witch. Besides, I don't believe in them."

Julie pulled her fingers free and leaned across the table. "So you're one of those people who think witches are ugly old crones with warts. Maybe I don't believe in men who claim their sole purpose in life is to 'help people with nowhere else to turn'."

She glared at him. The table gave a little shiver. Passing truck, Chance thought. Mini-earthquake.

"Are you still mad because I had to break our date?"

"I got over that days ago, or you'd be going 'croak…croak…croak' instead of trying my patience with your human prejudices." She took a deep breath, making the tiny polka-dots on her clingy silk blouse do interesting things. "Okay, I forgive you. But I can see you're not going to take my word. Do you remember what section of the store we were in when you stepped on my foot?"

She'd already forgiven him for that, he knew, or she wouldn't have given him her phone number. He thought for a moment. "We were in the…."

"Aviation technology section."

"That's right. I wanted a manual for the helicopter my firm is interesting in buying."

"I was looking for an instruction book for increasing broomstick air-speed."

"Umm…did you find one?"

Julie stood and held out her hand. "Wanna find out?"

**… … … … … … …**

Julie led the dapple gray stallion from its stall. It laid its ears back and stared down its long nose at Chance.

"This is my broom, Cedric," Julie said. "Cedric, meet Christopher Chance. Be nice. No sweeping poop onto his nice, new cross-trainers."

Cedric looked like nothing more than large, gray, not-very-friendly horse. Chance was beginning to really regret accompanying Julie to the obscure stable at the edge of Golden Gate Park. He was pretty sure he'd been all over the park and never seen a stable here. And their conversation kept getting more and more weird. Her _broom?_

Several black cats strolled by to rub against Julie's skirts as she brushed Cedric and cleaned his hooves. Although he could hear other horses moving in their stalls, their tails swishing, their hooves thudding softly on their bedding, he couldn't see beyond where they stood. The only light came from glowing clusters of jack-o-lanterns piled here and there on bales of hay.

"Aren't you worried about a fire?" he asked, eying a leering, grotesque face carved in one of the larger pumpkins. He could have sworn the damned thing winked at him.

"Oh, no. The ones that aren't enchanted are using those battery powered tea-lights. You don't get that good baked pumpkin smell, but they won't set the stable on fire, either."

She had Cedric bridled and saddled in no time, and led him outside. Chance had been wondering how she was going to manage her long skirt, and entertaining a few interesting notions about what getting settled on the horse's back might reveal when he saw she'd cinched on an old-fashioned side-saddle with a pillion.

"We'll ride double," Julie said. "Otherwise he won't tolerate any other rider. He's a one-witch broom, aren't you, darling?"

She gave the dapple gray an affectionate pat. Chance noticed its ears were still flat.

"Oh! I should have asked before. You don't get air-sick, do you?"

"Not me." The horse was tall, but not _that_ tall.

"Good. We'll go take a look at the Halloween Derby course."

He gave her a boost to the saddle. She seemed to weigh no more than one of the black cats prowling the stable. Then, showing off a little, he vaulted to the dapple gray's back. The broom's tail swished furiously, but Julie calmed it with a word Chance didn't quite catch.

"You'd better put your arms around me if you don't want to fall off."

Chance didn't mind that at all. There wasn't very much of Julie for his arms to go around, she had such a little nothing waist. He'd have to be careful not to let his arms ride up, though, or he'd be bumping against some very serious bosom. Her hair smelled of caramel apple and candy corn.

She pushed a length of leather into his hand. "Here's the buddy strap. Don't let go. Scoot up a little more against my back. When we go airborne you're going to feel a little wobbly. Pretend you're riding a bicycle, but tuck your feet back to cut down on drag. Are you ready?"

"Any time."

Julie clucked to the broom and it started off at a swift walk. As they neared the top of a low hill, it broke into a canter. A dozen yards from the crest it hit a full gallop and then_

The broom took to the sky as if launched from a giant slingshot. One moment its hooves were pounding the ground and the next Chance and Julie were high above the darkened park.

His stomach lurched and Chance couldn't help the reflexive squeeze he gave Julie's middle when what had felt like solid horseflesh suddenly became way-too-narrow broomstick-back. The pillion under him felt no larger than a tricycle seat and the ground looked far, far away. He was beginning to think he wasn't so smart-ass sure he never suffered air-sickness, but he'd die before admitting it.

They soared over the treetops, circling higher and higher beneath the grinning full moon. It somehow looked like a giant clock face hanging in the sky, although Chance told himself it couldn't possibly be.

They slalomed in and out through the tall colored light beams arrowing up above the Francis Scott Key monument as the colors changed from blue to green to yellow to pink. They hovered beside the Dutch windmill, then laced figure-8's through the slowly rotating arms.

They skimmed the surface of Stow Lake, causing a wind-ripple that turned the moon's reflection as wrinkled as a prune. "Duck!" Julie cried, and they shot beneath the little stone pedestrian bridge, made a heart-stopping 180-turn and zoomed back again. Julie waved a greeting to the shimmering woman in white strolling along the shore.

"_She _gets airsick," Julie said with a sniff.

They circled the eerie black and green bulk of the de Young Museum, then buzzed the security guard sneaking a smoke on the observation tower, laughing as the man threw himself flat and covered his head with his arms.

"You'll hear news stories tomorrow about giant bats invading the park," Julie said. "They won't really get here for another couple of weeks."

They headed toward the grassy pasture where the buffalo herd roamed. The great beasts scarcely bothered to lift their noses from the grass as Chance and Julie swept over their heads and slowed to a hover at the edge of a tangle of trees and brambles.

Legs, head, and switching tail emerged from the broom. It shook its mane free. Cedric peered at chance, ears still flat. It snorted something that sounded like, "Now do you believe?"

Chance slid from Cedric's back, thankful to once again feel solid ground beneath his feet. He lifted Julie from the saddle. Somewhere a clock began to toll the hour.

"Would you like to come and meet my family?" Julie asked. "They live just down that lane."

A trail he hadn't noticed when they touched down opened into the tangle. A short distance down it he could see a pale glow, like candle light shining through rock candy. The aroma of gingerbread and peppermint filled the air. He thought he saw movement off to the side, flitting white shapes and glowing orange eyes.

She circled her arms around his neck. "You could help us hand out treats to all the little ghosties and goblins. We witches like to get an early start. As soon as the clock strikes twelve, it will be Halloween."

Chance let her get a few paces ahead of him down the lane, then yanked out his cell phone, punched a number on speed-dial and waited while the distant phone rang. And rang. And rang.

At last Winston's sleep-grumpy voice answered, "Yeah? What-d-ya want? It's midnight!"

"Winston! Quick! Do we have any clients needing an emergency rescue?"

THE END


End file.
